


The Makings of Legends

by jekisawrites



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Minor Character Death, and then have a happy ending, clarke and bellamy both die but come back, lincoln's death is mentioned, this is darker than my usual stuff and idk what to tag it sorry guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26924701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jekisawrites/pseuds/jekisawrites
Summary: When Bellamy woke up, he recognized Clarke’s cabin. He was in her bed, and after looking around, he spotted Miller in the cot along with a handful of his men on pallets on the floor. Slowly, he lifted himself off the bed to make his way outside. There he saw Clarke kneeling in her garden.When he was an arm's reach away from her, she said, “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”“I shouldn’t be alive.”He stared at her. He tried to piece together the events of the battle. It didn’t make sense that Clarke was able to get them out alive.“Who are you?”She stood and dusted her hands on her apron before turning to face him. There were still splotches of black and white paint on her face. There was still blood on her shirt collar. He watched as she straightened. “I am Commander of Death.”Clarke took him to an open field, and he watched in awe as she spoke and spread her arms wide. As the words fell from her lips, bones rose out of the earth’s flesh. When she was finished, an army of dried bones stood at her command.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 52





	The Makings of Legends

**Author's Note:**

> This was loosely inspired by Ezekiel 37:1-10, but I also got the idea after watching 1917, even though you probably won't be able to tell. 
> 
> This is darker than my usual stuff, which makes me hesitant to post it. But here we are. 
> 
> I put triggers/spoilers at the end notes just in case.

At thirteen, it was normal for Bellamy to wake up to the smell of smoke and death that’s too close for comfort. He could faintly remember a time when he didn’t know the taste of suffering, had never seen life flee someone’s eyes, had never felt death walk past him leaving chills up his arms. He could faintly remember a time when there were no Commanders. No war. His people once lived in peace in their valley. The neighboring villages weren’t hostile. They traded together. Celebrated together. Broke bread together. All of that sounds foreign to him now. With every morning that he woke to another explosion, to another friend crying out in pain and fear, the memory of peace faded a little more. 

He wondered if he’ll ever have the taste of comfort ever again. 

The first Commander came a year after his sister was born. She came peacefully enough, and at first his people welcomed her. Commander Lexa claimed that in order for all of them to survive their enemies of the north, they needed to band together and unite. They needed to fall under one leader. 

Commander Lexa was convincing and charismatic. The people spoke in hushed, reverent tones about her love for her people. They spoke about the softness that coursed underneath her fierce determination and wrath. 

His people had no reason to doubt her, and so they did as she suggested. They joined her cause. 

The war began not long after Lexa rose to power. 

Bellamy knew the taste of battle before he knew the taste of manhood.

//

Indra came to recruit soldiers when Bellamy was fourteen. At fifteen, he packed his bags and followed in the village leader’s footsteps. It took him and Miller two weeks wandering through the forests and the wreckage of battles to find Kane. The sounds of Octavia’s wailing haunted him every step that took him that much further away from her. 

When they finally found Kane’s camp, the guards took Miller and him by the necks, and forced them on their knees where they stayed until Kane was called. 

Kane took one look at them and frowned. “Bellamy Blake and Nathan Miller.” 

Bellamy and Miller shared a look. Their village leader looked more feral than the last time they saw him a year ago. 

Kane took them in, and after a moment he whispered, “You’re only children.”

Indra stood behind him, and when she heard his comment she said, “The cost of war is our children’s innocence.” 

Kane ordered them to stand, and called someone to show them where to clean up. That night, Kane appeared at their tent. The moon was washing him in a soft light. 

He handed them each a bowl of soup. “If you’re here to fight, you’re men now. I’ll do what I can to protect you, but you're on your own now. More than anything, you need to have each other’s backs.” 

Bellamy and Miller shared another look. They don’t remember a time where they didn’t have each other’s backs. That part of war came naturally to them. 

//

The two of them quickly moved through the ranks, and it wasn’t long before Bellamy had a small, ragged group of men of his own. Miller was always at his side, always shielding Bellamy from invisible threats. 

Bellamy was a natural leader, and the people quickly gave him their hearts. 

//

The second commander came with hushed whispers and rumors filled with hope. Bellamy and Miller had been fighting and dodging death for five years when they first heard the name Commander of Death. He was sitting at the edge of the fire, eating the sludge Murphy called food. His rifle laid across his lap, ready to be used at a moment’s notice. Miller sat across from Bellamy, sharing a rotting log with the other men they had crossed paths with earlier that day. If he remembered correctly, they were from a neighboring village in the mountains that hovered behind his and Miller’s home. The village was burned down just a few weeks prior. 

“Have you heard?” One of the younger boys had asked. His eyes seemed to be haunted, and he didn’t seem a day older than fourteen. Bellamy wondered what terrors of war the boy had already seen. 

Bellamy cut his eyes at Miller, and it was him that asked, “Heard what?” 

The only news Bellamy cared about was whether or not this damn war was over. Whether or not he could go back to his village in the valley and see his mom and sister. By then, he knew better than to hope for that news, so he turned his attention back to the sludge. 

One of the older boys answered, someone who had introduced himself as Monty. He seemed too happy for this world. “There’s a new Commander. She’s leading a group of rogue soldiers and going against Commander Lexa.” 

Monroe, a girl who reminded him too much of his sister chimed in, “They’re calling her the Commander of Death.”

Chills ran down his arms, and he heard Murphy snort in disbelief behind him.

Miller took his time answering, taking another bite and watching Bellamy before he said, “She sounds like trouble.” 

Murphy came and sat beside Bellamy. The three of them all shared a look. They knew what another Commander meant. 

More battles. More deaths. 

//

Clarke Griffin came into Bellamy’s life fairly unannounced and unwanted when he was only eight years old. Her father had been from the village, and was loved by nearly everyone. When he went off and married the Chancellor’s daughter, the village had a month long celebration. When Clarke was born, the village had another. 

Everyone knew that Clarke was next up to lead, her mother declining the position, wanting only to be a healer. The villages of the valley and on their side of the mountain had been protected and led by Abby’s family for nearly a hundred years. When news came of Abby declining to be Chancellor, the fear came in waves. When Abby and Jake announced the birth of their daughter, the fear subsided. There was another heir. Clarke Griffin had the weight of her people resting on her shoulders before she turned a day old. 

Bellamy didn’t like Clarke at first, just on principle. He thought she was spoiled and was handed life on a golden platter. At the time, he didn’t realize that what was handed to her on a golden platter was the weight of her people’s sins, the weight of their death and life. The weight of their humanity. 

When Jake and Abby brought Clarke to visit her father’s home village, the people decorated the streets with colorful cloths and prepared their finest meats. 

It was only the last week of the visit when Bellamy was forced to sit beside Clarke at one of the final feasts. For the first half, he brooded in silence, and it wasn’t until Clarke nudged her knee against his and whispered for him to watch as she flicked a spoon full of fruit at Kane that Bellamy broke his silence and laughed. 

When the feast ended, they both took off running, their laughter falling behind them as Kane yelled threats after them. 

//

Ten years later, he heard the news of Jake and Abby Griffin’s assassinations. Clarke’s grandfather had died just the week before, and she was soon to be Chancellor. No one could find her, and with her home being burned to ashes, everyone assumed she was dead. 

Bellamy couldn’t allow himself to feel the grief that threatened to drown his heart. 

//

In a twist of fate, Kane and Indra turned on Commander Lexa. The people were tired of war, and the only thing Lexa brought was more of it. Following the cries of his people, Kane joined the Commander of Death’s army. Indra abandoned her post in Lexa’s inner circle and went with her friend. The death of her daughter was still fresh, making her just as war-weary as the others. 

No one had seen the Commander of Death. No one knew her name. But she protected the villages. She promised them their freedom as soon as the enemy was defeated. Her promises were better than the assurances of more war. 

//

Bellamy hadn’t seen his sister since he was fifteen when she was screaming for him to stay, screaming for him to take her with him, screaming how could he dare leave her. He only went back to the village once to visit his mother as she took her last breaths. The people had told him that Octavia had run off with a man from the mountains, and no one had seen her in months. 

On the eve of his twenty-fourth birthday he heard of the Red Commander. He was with Miller again, as always. They were on a mission, just the two of them. Pike’s men were planning on attacking Mount Weather, hoping if they took control, Lexa’s defeat would be imminent, but Kane knew that Pike would lose more men than it was worth. Bellamy and Miller were to get to Pike before the attack, and to stop him by any means necessary. 

It took them two days of walking to get to Pike’s camp, and another day to find him and convince him to listen. In the end, Miller chained him to a chair while Bellamy took command of his troops. 

That night the two were once again sitting by the fire, only this time Miller was at his right and on high alert. The camp was quiet, but that hadn’t put either of them at ease. Over the years, they had both learned to never trust another man’s soldiers. 

That didn’t mean they couldn’t listen to their conversations, though. 

“I just got a letter from a friend back home. She said there’s a third Commander now.” 

The hairs on Bellamy’s arms stood on end. He glanced at Miller who gave him a weary look. If the news was true, it didn’t bode well for anyone. 

“She calls herself the Red Commander. Painted her face red with the blood of her dead lover. Apparently Commander Lexa knew of an attack on their village, but she didn’t warn any of them. Nearly everyone died, and now she’s out for blood.” 

Bellamy’s heart thumped an angry and loud tattoo against his chest. He ignored Miller’s piercing glance, took out his rifle, and began to clean it. 

Miller knew better than to try to talk to Bellamy when he was cleaning his gun. Over the years he learned that it was a clear sign of a storm brewing in Bellamy’s mind. He also knew better than to leave him alone to weather that storm, and so Miller stayed at his friend’s side all night, only leaving to grab them both food. He had to force Bellamy to eat. 

//

The night Octavia came screaming into this world, the moon turned red. The village healer warned Aurora of the bad omen, telling her it was better to kill the child now than to let it live through the suffering that the blood moon promised. Aurora would rather kill herself than the child, and the healer left with a shake of his head and a half-hearted blessing. 

Octavia was stubborn and angry and one of the fiercest people Bellamy had ever met as a child. No one was surprised when she forced herself into the hunting parties or when she had her first kill, a young panther that gave as good as it got. It left a scar as long as Bellamy’s forearm on her back, a scar that Octavia wore with pride. 

When her brother left, her heart felt the pain of a thousand deaths, but it was nothing compared to the pain she felt as she held Lincoln’s head in her lap and watched the life leave his eyes. 

“Do better,” He had whispered before the light went out. 

Octavia’s wails could be heard echoing off the side of the cliffs. Something died in her that day, and something else, something dark and primal, was born. She vowed to kill the woman who was responsible for her love’s death or die trying. 

//

Before the Commander of Death was born from the ashes of the dead and nurtured by the tears of their mourning families, Clarke Griffin was just a girl. 

She was a girl who would rather draw than tag along to the meetings with her grandfather. She would rather go to the river with Wells than learn the history of her people. She would rather be given the chance to live than to lead, but that was never the life Fate had planned for her. Fate had her born with an iron will and her heart beating the war drum of her people. 

That was who Bellamy met, and as he watched her ride away with her mom and dad all those years ago, Fate whispered to him that she was special. It wouldn’t be until years later that he would learn just how special she was. 

//

Bellamy was on a solo mission when he walked unknowingly into an enemy camp. He escaped with a bullet in his shoulder and a cut on his calf. He was already accepting his fate to die alone when she came along. His vision was blurry and all he saw was a slender girl with blonde hair and a voice that tried to wake a memory that had long since died. 

She helped him back to her cabin that was hidden deep in the woods, and it was there that she doctored his wounds. She told him to stay the night, but he refused. The lives of his men depended on him finishing his mission. He left as soon as she finished the last stitch in his leg. 

Once he finished his mission and was on the lonely trek back to his camp, he stopped by the cabin. Smoke floating from the chimney was the only indication she was home. He knocked, and when she opened the door, he made to say thank you. Only the words couldn’t find their way out. 

She smiled at him and said, “I made enough for two. Stay for dinner.” 

This time, he did as he was asked. He stayed the night, too, sleeping on the cot in the corner. The next morning came, and she made him breakfast. It was only then that he realized he didn’t even know her name. 

“I’m Clarke Griffin.” She gave him another lopsided smile, “Sorry, I thought you knew.” 

The air was knocked out of his lungs. The rumors of her death echoed in his mind. The sorrow that had threatened to shatter him then, tasted sour in his mouth now. 

“I thought you were dead.” 

She looked different than how she looked in her memories. Her hair had been chopped off, barely reaching her shoulders. Her cheeks were sunk in, and she held herself with a sense of power that hadn’t been there when they had been kids. She looked older. She looked alive.

Something shifted in her eyes. “Maybe I am. Maybe we all are.” 

//

Lexa had been groomed for power since she could walk. She didn’t necessarily want it, but it was expected of her. Expectations to unite the people. Expectations to expand. Expectations to rule. And so she did. 

She was surprised by how easily the people came to her, how easily they submitted themselves under her. They fought bravely in her name against Queen Nia of Azgeda of the North, and when she was murdered by her own son, they continued to fight in her name when Ontari claimed the throne as her own. Nia’s son Roan had disappeared into the icy mountains. 

The people expected a reprieve then, but continued on when Lexa demanded they do so. She was told her entire life that the North and Azgeda were hers to rule, and she would not rest until they were under her command. 

Then the people started rebelling against her, and she learned how difficult it was to fight a war when her own home was crumbling at its foundation. When Indra turned her back on Lexa, the Commander thought it was the end. But the weight of the expectations pushed her on, and so she continued fighting for what was rightfully hers. 

With the help of Mount Weather, she created an army of Reapers – men and women drunk on the taste of their enemy’s blood. Reapers devoured humanity’s flesh. Reapers caused fear to ripple throughout her people. Reapers were the stuff of nightmares, and yet her people still continued to rebel. 

Under the Commander of Death, under Indra and Kane, Lexa heard whispers of the people’s beloved soldier. Whispers of someone they would fall behind as he led them into battle. Whispers of someone they would die for. 

She didn’t rest until she learned the name. 

Bellamy Blake. 

//

Clarke Griffin died the same night she became the Commander of Death. She was still mourning the loss of her grandfather, the smoke of the funeral pyre still hovering around their home. The sounds of her mother’s heartbreak were still echoing in the halls. Her father’s words telling her she didn’t have to bear this responsibility were still fresh on her ears. 

She had been outside when the intruders came. When she heard the screams of their servants and then her mom, she ran towards them. Her father saw her before anyone else, and told her to run with his last breath before a bullet when through his head. She stood frozen as her mother’s wails sent terror down her spine, and it was only when they pointed the gun at Abby, that Clarke turned to run. 

She ran through the town, the images of houses on fire and blood flooding her streets were seared into her brain. She ran until her lungs ached and her legs refused to take another step. She found refuge in an alcove at the base of the mountains where she thought she was safe. Clarke let her guard down and as the stars and moon watched over her, she allowed herself to fall asleep. 

She woke to a twig snapping. She shot up. And through the darkness she saw a figure walking towards her. Without time to think, she ran blindly through the night. The stars and moon hiding behind ominous clouds. By the time she saw the dropoff, it was too late. She tried to slide to a stop, but the momentum sent her hurtling over the edge and into the basin below. 

As she hit the water, pain erupted at the base of her neck, and then the darkness came. 

She woke lying at the edge of the water, and heard a soft echo. 

_ “This is not your end.”  _

Clarke coughed up water, and with the little energy she had left, sat up. Her fingers went to the back of her neck where she first felt the piercing pain. She was expecting a gash or a knot. All she felt was a scar. 

The sun rose, and it’s light dissolved the dark clouds. With the sun as her guide, she walked. 

//

The day Bellamy discovered who the Commander of Death was, his heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. He didn’t know if it was from anger or hurt or fear. Or all three. 

The months following his meeting with Clarke, he had made a habit of visiting whenever him and his men traveled near her cabin. He always went alone, and Miller was kind enough not to question. It wasn’t as often as he or Clarke liked, but it was enough for them to nurture their friendship into something more. Clarke became Bellamy’s anchor, and he became her pillar. He once had no one other than Miller, but now she mattered more than most. 

Bellamy, Miller, and their men had been hunting and fighting a group of Reapers going on three weeks. His men were tired. Miller was tired. Bellamy was tired, but when Kane sent them back to capture the remaining, they did as commanded. It should’ve been an easy fight, but there were tunnels that the Reapers used that neither Bellamy or Miller had known about. The Reapers ambushed their men, using tactics that Bellamy had never seen before. 

He lost sense of time and place, and soon all he knew was the blood and screams of his fallen men. The last light of the sun was painting the sky an angry red when Bellamy’s nightmare came true. He heard a gasp, and instinctively he knew it was Miller. The world went silent around him, and he was no longer able to hear the screams of his dying men. He watched in horror as Miller collapsed. Bellamy’s roar was loud enough and full of enough pain for the both of them. He killed the Reaper in front of him. Took a cheap shot at the knee before breaking his neck. His left arm hung limp as he ran to his brother. 

Bellamy was nearly there, and he had a new surge of energy at the sight of Miller’s shallow breathing. With a few more steps to go, Bellamy stumbled when an arrow pierced through his thigh. He fell with a grunt, and when he realized his body was going numb, he cursed. The realization that the arrows were poisoned and he wouldn’t be able to save his friend caused him to crumble. 

With a last ditch effort, he tried to pull himself up to get to Miller, but it was a fruitless attempt. His men were still fighting, but even Bellamy knew it was a losing battle at this point. Miller was all he could see. He dug his fingers into the dirt and gore and pulled himself inch by inch until his vision went black. 

He didn’t know how much time had passed when someone grabbed him, lifting him up by the armpit. “Stay with me, Bellamy. I’ll get you out of here.” 

He recognized the voice. “Clarke?” 

She hushed him. “Don’t say my name here.” 

He tried to look at her, but his head only hung limp against his chest. “Miller. You’ve gotta get––” 

“I know,” She whispered. “I’ve already got him.” 

He was unconscious by the time Clarke transformed into the Commander of Death. 

//

Clarke wandered the forests on the mountainside for forty days and nights before she stumbled upon the cabin nestled neatly amongst the trees. She scouted the area around the cabin before daring to walk in. It was completely empty save for a bed and hearth. The first time she fell asleep in the bed, the first dream came. 

_ Clarke stood in the valley. She recognized it as the valley of her people, but there were no villages. No people. No animals. No sign of life. She walked along the path, and as she continued to walk, she began to notice the dirt and dust that was scattered on the valley floor were covering what looked to be stone.  _

_ She bent over, used her fingers to brush away the dust. She gasped and jumped away when she realized what it was.  _

_ Bones.  _

_ A figure appeared beside her. The more Clarke tried to focus on their features, the less focused they became. All she could tell was that they were twice her height, and in their right hand held a blazing sword.  _

_ “What do you see, Clarke?”  _

_ Their voice was the roaring of a waterfall.  _

_ Her throat was dry, but she managed to say, “Bones.”  _

_ “Are they alive?”  _

_ She glanced around. The dirt and dust that had been covering them had disappeared. Everywhere she looked were human bones.  _

_ “No.” _

_ The figure began to shimmer. “You will do as I say. You will command the bones. You will command them to rise from their burials. You will command them to fight at your side, and you will command them to fight for our people.”  _

_ The figure raised the sword, and as he did, the bones rose. They clattered against one another, and as one, they formed skeletons. All standing. All facing Clarke.  _

_ “Clarke, I give you command of the dead. Save your people. Save humanity.”  _

_ They reached out and pressed the palm of their hand to her head. Clarke felt burning throughout her skin, and then nothing.  _

Clarke had woken up gasping for breath. Feeling crazier than ever, she stepped out of the cabin. She glanced around her. No bones scattered the forest floor. Still, she repeated the words that the figure said to her right before she woke up, lifted her hands, and was amazed as bones seeped out of the earth and came together. 

//

When Bellamy woke up, he recognized Clarke’s cabin. He was in her bed, and after looking around, he spotted Miller in the cot along with a handful of his men on pallets on the floor. Slowly, he lifted himself off the bed to make his way outside. There he saw Clarke kneeling in her garden. 

When he was an arm's reach away from her, she said, “You shouldn’t be out of bed.” 

“I shouldn’t be alive.” 

He stared at her. He tried to piece together the events of the battle. It didn’t make sense that Clarke was able to get them out alive. 

“Who are you?” 

She stood and dusted her hands on her apron before turning to face him. There were still splotches of black and white paint on her face. There was still blood on her shirt collar. He watched as she straightened. “I am Commander of Death.” 

Clarke took him to an open field, and he watched in awe as she spoke and spread her arms wide. As the words fell from her lips, bones rose out of the earth’s flesh. When she was finished, an army of dried bones stood at her command. 

She turned to him, “I didn’t want to lead our people. I didn’t ask for this. But this is my cross to bear, and we need to take our home back.” 

//

Miller was still healing when Bellamy went on his next solo mission, and he had no one but himself to blame when he stumbled across a foreign camp. He was bound and gagged and all but dragged through the camp. The soldiers had their faces painted red, which he only noticed once he was being dragged. At the center of camp, he was forced on his knees, and when he looked up, he was kneeling behind someone.

Bellamy stared at her back, the long, black hair waking something old and familiar in his gut. Her stance and her posture remind him of his own. 

When she turned around, his eyes went wide. 

Octavia’s smile was slow and perverse when she said, “Hello, Brother.” 

//

Octavia did not set out to be a Commander. Her only goal was to take out Commander Lexa. If that meant she needed to become the next Commander, so be it. After Lincoln’s death, she allowed the darkness to grow in her. She let it take root in her heart and spread through her veins until all she knew was the taste of vengeance. 

When people learned of the girl from the valley with a rage stronger than the ocean, they came to her. The men who wanted to avenge their wives. The sisters who had lost their brothers. Mothers who lost their children. They flocked to her, and she never turned them away. Soon she had her own following. Soon, she had a fighting chance to go up against Commander Lexa. 

The night of her first battle, she stared at her reflection in an old mirror. Fury surged through her. The glass shattered when she punched it. When she walked out to lead her people into battle, her hair was wild. Her face was painted red. Blood was dripping down her hand.

They had won that first battle, but the victories that followed were few and far between. 

//

Octavia ordered her men to take the gag off of Bellamy, but his hands stayed bound. She went to sit, and he stood in front of her. 

When he stayed silent, she spoke again. “The only reason you’re still alive is because you’re my brother. This war has taken everything else away from me, and today I refuse to be the reason you’re ripped away from me, too.” 

He didn’t recognize his little sister in the woman who loomed over him. “Today?”

She ducked her chin and glanced at him, the white of her eyes a stark contrast with the dark. “You fight for the enemy.” 

“We’re fighting for the same thing!”

“If you’re not with me, you’re against me.” 

“O, that’s––” 

She waved her hand, and a soldier grabbed his arm. 

“You either join me, or you can be my enemy.”

Bellamy blinked, shocked. “The things you’ve done. The things that the Red Commander has done… I don’t want to be a part of that. You’ve killed innocents. Women. Children. The elderly.” 

“They stood with Lexa.” 

“They weren’t fighting this war!” 

She peered down at him. “Enemy, then.” She snapped her mouth closed, gave him a once over and, “You can stay the night. Bathe, eat, sleep. Then my men will lead you out of our camp. You can tell Kane and the Commander of Death that if they don’t join forces with me, they will be my next victory.” 

//

He escaped while the guards thought he was bathing. 

//

When Bellamy joined Kane’s rebellion at fifteen, he left behind a broken heart with his mom and sister. 

Twelve years later, and he’s still fighting with a broken heart. 

//

Clarke found him bathing in the river. He came straight there after making sure Kane received Octavia’s message. She sat on the bank and watched as he scrubbed the grime off of his skin. When he sat next to her, she took his wrists in her hands and traced her fingers over the rope burns. 

“What happened?” 

He told her everything while she rubbed ointment on his burns. 

That night, as they laid in her bed, he told her he loved her. 

She gave him a sad smile. “It’s dangerous business being in love with Death.” 

In the morning, she begged him to stay while he packed his things. 

“I can’t, Clarke.” His voice sounded more sure than he felt. “The Red Commander is my sister. It’s my responsibility to stop her.” 

He kissed her as he left, and with each step he took, it felt as if his heart was shattering all over again. 

//

He didn’t see Clarke Griffin again until he heard of the Commander of Death’s death a year later. 

//

The war and his hunt for the Red Commander took him to Azgeda. He was surrounded by the snowy mountain caps when he heard of Lexa’s downfall. This time it was Miller who brought the news. 

“Have you heard?” He asked as he barged into Bellamy’s tent. 

“Heard what?” 

“Lexa is dead. One of her own killed her. Titus.” 

Titus had been her most trusted advisor. Bellamy wondered what had transpired for him to kill his beloved Commander. 

Miller read his mind, “She had grown unstable. Crazy. When he tried to reason with her, things went sideways.” He shrugged, letting Bellamy piece together the rest. 

But that wasn’t the end. Lexa’s heir had taken her place, a boy too young for the pressures of leadership. 

“You know what this means?” 

Miller looked at Bellamy expectantly. 

“Ontari will kill the boy.” 

Bellamy and Miller abandon their search for the Red Commander and rush to the crumbled capitol to save the boy. 

When they arrived, blood splattered the streets. Warily, they entered the capitol building. They followed the trail of blood. They pushed the doors open to the main hall, and that is where they found Commander Aden’s head on a spear. Bellamy had only a glimpse of Octavia before she leaped out the window. 

//

They’re sitting around a fire when they hear. 

“No one has seen the Commander of Death.” One boy said. 

Another spoke up, “She battled with Ontari, only for the Red Commander to ambush from the other side.” 

“People are saying she’s dead.” 

News traveled quickly, but over the years Bellamy learned not to trust all he heard from refugees and fellow soldiers. Facts become twisted. Truths become myth, and legends become real. Still, when he heard of the Commander of Death’s fall, he rushed for Clarke’s cabin. 

It took him over a week to get to the familiar area, and every day Bellamy felt a clock ticking in his chest. When he spotted smoke billowing from the chimney, the clock slowed down. He ran the last few feet to the cabin and slung the door open so violently it hit the wall and shook the cabin. 

Clarke stared at him wide-eyed from her seat on the cot. It looked to Bellamy like she was hemming an old dress. 

“I––” Bellamy breathed out, but the words escaped him. All he could do was stare, drink her in like he’d been living in a drought. Eventually he said, “You’re okay.” 

She cocked her head, “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

She went back to the dress then, and he gently closed the door and joined her on the cot. “There were rumors of your death.”

She chuckled, and Bellamy thought it was the first time he’s heard something akin to a laugh leave her mouth. “Can the Commander of Death die?” 

He smirked, “According to my men, yes.” 

Clarke put the dress down and took his hand in hers. Bellamy stared at the contrast of their skin. Dirt clung to his already dark skin, causing hers to seem even more white and clean than before. Where he had calluses and scars, she had soft and untouched skin. 

“We’re all going to die someday, Bellamy Blake.” 

He looked up from their hands and saw her already looking at him. “I’d rather you not die anytime soon.” 

She gave him a pitying look, “We’re at war.” 

“And after this war, I plan on marrying you, Clarke Griffin.” 

Clarke released a small breath that fanned over his cheeks. “Why would you want to marry Death?” 

Bellamy lifted their hands, untangling their fingers. He kept eye contact with her as he kissed both of her palms. “You are so much more than the breath of death.” 

Her lips went thin. After a beat she asked, “You still have hope that we’re both going to survive?” 

“As long as we’re both breathing, I have to.” 

//

When his daughter turned seven, Jake Griffin had a dream. 

_ He stood in their valley. To his right, he saw his village. Crops and cattle littered the land. Songs of laughter and life filled the air. To his left, he saw only destruction. Death and disease haunted his people. There was no sound but the wailing of widows.  _

_ A figure appeared in front of him. Jake could only make out a white cloak, the face a dark void. There was a blazing sword at his side.  _

_ “Clarke Griffin must meet the son of Aurora Blake.”  _

_ Jake blinked. “What?”  _

_ “Your daughter and the son of the seamstress must cross paths before the end of the year.” _

_ “Why?” _

_ The figure pointed towards the side of the valley where destruction ran rampant. “This is the fate of our land unless Clarke and Bellamy cross paths.” He then pointed to the right, “The survival and happiness of our people rests on their shoulders. Clarke cannot carry it on her own.” _

_ Jake blinked.  _

_ “Clarke Griffin must meet the son of Aurora Blake.” _

When he woke, Jake had his family packed and ready to visit his home village before week’s end. 

//

Clarke’s second dream came the first night Bellamy stayed the night. The same figure appeared, and when she woke up and while Bellamy snored gently on the cot, she went to the open field. She dug her fingers into the dirt, and with a single thought the grass and plants around her wilted. 

_ “You have more power than just the command of the dead,” They had said _ . 

Clarke stared at the dead flower at her feet, and for the first time, she was scared of herself. 

//

The Red Commander and Commander of Death come face to face when Bellamy Blake’s life is at the hands of Queen Ontari of Azgeda. 

Three armies. Three Commanders. One man. 

Kane, Indra, and Miller stand behind Clarke at the head of their army, the Azgeda army staring them down while the Red Commander and her men watch from the trees. 

Ontari walked forward, dragging a prisoner behind her. She forced him to kneel when she deemed them close enough to the Commander of Death’s army. Clarke knew who it was before they took the rag off his head. Bellamy’s eyes bored into hers. 

Kane gasped and Miller lunged forward. Clarke gripped his arm and yanked him back. Behind them, Indra whispered, “The cost of war is our children.” 

“Surrender,” Ontari shouted, “And I’ll spare his life.” 

Clarke steeled herself. “And what makes you think I care about one man’s life?” 

Ontari unsheathed her sword, “I have spies of my own,  _ Wanheda.”  _ She spat out the Azgeda name for Commander of Death. “I know what this traitor’s heart means to you.” 

Clarke’s eyes flicked to Bellamy. He barely moved, but she saw his silent message. Do not surrender. 

Her heart was ripped out of her chest when she called back, “I will not surrender for the life of one man.” 

At her words, Miller lunged again. This time, Indra dragged him back. Clarke was too honed in on Bellamy to hear what Indra whispered to him. 

She watched, frozen in place, as Ontari lifted her sword. When she plunged it through his heart, Clarke went silent, and the Red Commander wailed. 

As Bellamy dropped to the soft earth, Octavia rose from her own grave and charged the Azgeda army alongside the army of the Commander of Death. 

The Commander of Death watched in horror as Bellamy fell forward, blood gushing from his wound. Cold, unadulterated rage filled her to the brim. She fell to her knees, fingers digging into the dirt around her. 

_ You have more power than just the command of the dead.  _

The Commander of Death released her rage into the earth, and she watched as the earth died at her touch. Watched as the death spread like wildfire. 

_ You are so much more than the breath of death. _

Bellamy’s words came back to her, echoing in her head, silencing the other. 

_ You are so much more than the breath of death. _

The wild spread of death slowed. 

_ You have more power than just the command of the dead.  _

_ You are so much more than the breath of death. _

The two voices bounced off of each other in her head. She squeezed her eyes shut. She wondered how she managed to get here. How Bellamy ended up bleeding out a mere few feet in front of her. 

She was distantly aware of Kane and her army surging forward, of the Red Commander’s army bleeding into hers, of them uniting and charging the Azgeda army. 

Her heart was gone. She could no longer feel. 

She dug her fingers deeper into the dirt, and the death once again continued to spread, taking the souls of whoever was unfortunate enough to get in its path. Finally, death reached Ontari, and Clarke watched with sick fascination as the life left her body, and she crumbled to the ground. 

Clarke pushed herself up and rushed to Bellamy’s side. His face had gone ghostly white, and she didn't feel air leave his lungs when her fingers grazed his lips.

_ You are so much more than the breath of death. _

_ You have more power than just the command of the dead.  _

_ You are so much more than the breath of death. _

The figure from her dreams appeared then, standing in front of her with their sword blazing. They seemed just as real as the bodies scattered around her. 

“I told you,” They said in that roaring voice, “You have more power than just that over the dead.” 

Clarke shook her head, “I want the power of life.” She choked down a sob, “I need him. I can’t lose him too.” 

The figure knelt in front of her, Bellamy’s body lying between them. 

“Please,” She begged. “ _ Please.”  _

They nodded. “You are gifted with life just once. Is this the life you wish to give?” 

She choked on another sob when she nodded, “Yes. Save Bellamy.” 

The figure stood then, lifting their blazing sword. Before Clarke could comprehend what was happening, they plunged the sword through Bellamy’s chest, the flames turning a piercing white. 

Clarke had to shield her eyes. When she opened them again, the figure was gone. 

_ “Remember, Child.”  _ The voice echoed, _ “You are more than the army you command. You are more than the blood covering your hands.”  _

She blinked, and when Bellamy started coughing, she grabbed at his hand. 

He looked at her, taking a moment for his eyes to focus. After a beat, he groaned, “What happened?” 

Clarke wiped her cheeks and tried to smile, “You died.” 

He went to sit up, but quickly fell back down with a grunt. “Just that, huh?” 

She let out a watery laugh, “Yeah, just that.” 

Clarke fell against him then, needing to feel the warmth of his skin and hear the beating of his heart. As the battle waged on, she stayed there with his arms wrapped around her, and his heart reassuring her of his life. 

Azgeda fell, and the original boundaries were drawn. Roan, Nia’s son, came out of hiding once the war had ended.

Indra snarled, “A true king does not hide from a fight.” 

Roan gave her a careless lookover. Then he turned to Clarke and Bellamy. “I was told to go into hiding.”

Clarke and Bellamy look at each other. “By who?”

He shrugged, “Some dude in white.” 

Bellamy gave her shoulder a squeeze, and Clarke let out a tired chuckle. “Yeah, I think I know them.” 

Roan took the Azgeda throne, and while the people cheered for Clarke and Bellamy to take the place of the Commanders, they declined. They told the states to govern themselves. When Luna arrived at the capitol, telling Clarke that a figure with a blazing sword told her to take her place as Commander, Clarke and Bellamy disappeared into the forest. 

//

They went home to their cabin, only telling their closest friends where they were. Miller and Murphy visited every fortnight with news from the valley and their village. Octavia visited sporadically, looking less like the Red Commander and more like their mother who had always been content with the life she had been handed. 

On one of those sporadic visits, Octavia and Bellamy go to the river. There she asked, “How do you love more than once?”

Bellamy looked back at the cabin, his heart beating a soothing rhythm against his chest. “Your heart doesn’t have a limit on how many or how much you can love, O.” 

She closed her eyes and tilted her head up, basking in the warmth of the sun. “I think mine is too damaged.” 

When Bellamy covered her hand with his, he expected her to pull away. He was relieved when she didn't. “Give it time to heal. The war took something from all of us. We all need time.”

She scoffed, but there was a smile hiding in her lips. 

“Clarke and I are getting married.” 

She peeked an eye open at him, “I thought you two were already married.” 

He shrugged. 

“Well, congrats.” 

“We want you there.”

She turned her hand over and gave his hand a squeeze, “Wouldn’t dream of missing it.” 

//

Once upon a time, Bellamy woke up to the smoke of his neighbors burning. The only lullabies he knew were those of the wailing windows and the screams of the brokenhearted. He can barely remember a time when his valley wasn’t ravaged by war, a time where commanders weren’t fighting for more, a time when he knew peace. 

Peace came for him and Clarke in their little cabin that was nestled amongst the trees. There was a river gurgling behind them and a field of wildflowers nearby. There was still a patch of dead earth in the middle of the field, and Clarke still couldn’t look at it. Both of them wondered if life will ever enter it again. 

They lived their final days there, and when Clarke took her last breath, Bellamy wasn’t far behind. Miller and Octavia buried them, obeying their wishes and not giving them a funeral pyre. Their final resting place was nestled in the field with the wild flowers, and months later, the patch that had stayed dead came to life again. 

Decades later, the son of a soldier who seemed too happy for this world, pulled his grandchildren onto his lap. He whispered the story of the Commander of Death, of her sacrifice. He told them the bravery of the soldier who stole the hearts of their people, and the darkness his sister was able to overcome. 

His granddaughter sighed wistfully, “I want to be as brave as Bellamy.” 

The grandson shook his head, “Nuhuh. Papa Jordan, tell her that Clarke is the better one.” 

The third child tugged on his arm, “Did you ever meet them?” 

Jordan chuckled, “No, I wasn’t born yet. But my dad fought alongside Bellamy, and he watched Clarke command the army of bones.” 

The grandchildren ran off then, and Jordan looked up at the night sky, the stars twinkling down at him. He closed his eyes and hoped that his life and his happiness were loud enough for them to hear his thank you from the other side. 

And so, Bellamy and Clarke lived on in the hearts and minds of their people. 

**Author's Note:**

> Main Spoiler and Possible Trigger: Bellamy does die in this fic (briefly) so if you're still mourning 7x13, prepare yourself.  
> Bellarke dies in the end, but only after learning peace and living a happy life.  
> Lexa is painted in a not so positive light (as well as Octavia, but that goes more along with canon).  
> as always, no hating on any of the characters and comments are not the place for shipwars. 
> 
> come yell at me on [tumblr](https://thefangirlingbarista.tumblr.com/)


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